


A Traveller’s Home

by SagaNoren



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4207524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SagaNoren/pseuds/SagaNoren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning from Mount Weather Abby spends most of her time in the woods looking for Clarke. Marcus spends his time trying to keep the camp together. But her absence and fearing for her safety is constantly in his thoughts - so he asks her to stay. Set after season 2. finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Traveller’s Home

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up very differently from what I had in mind and a lot of ideas where left out so hopefully I'll find time to write another chapter.5
> 
> Credit for beta reading goes the amazing thelostfinch (.tumblr.com)

“I bear it, so they don’t have to,” Bellamy repeats, again, because Abby requests it and there is something hollow, almost threatening about the emptiness in her eyes.

“She wouldn't, it’s not… she’s just a child,’’ her voice a hoarse whisper, “how many times do I have to lose her,” her eyes are on Marcus, begging, but he has no answers, just a pained expression on his face.

…

During her recovery, he sits by her side, gently pulls her out of her nightmares, and holds her hand. But as time passes and she leaves the med tent, he barely gets to see her. Sometimes he sees her, swiftly crossing the camp, her dark curls streaming behind her. Then she’s gone again.  

Her absence is always at the back of his mind. And it’s starting to tear at his patience, as much as he wants to find her daughter for her, there isn't any way to justify a search party right now. No grounders are attacking, but the failed mission did not set up new rules between the Sky People and the Woods Clan. However, Clark is Abby’s daughter and for every night she’s not there he considers giving into her begging.

Just to stop her from disappearing – from the camp, from him. Lately all he sees when she looks at him is grief and discontent. And a glimpse of hope, hope he wishes he could justify. But he can’t, so every morning he has to watch her disappear, and all day long while trying to keep the camp together, after the loss of two leaders, he fears he won’t hear her sneak back into the camp late at night. 

…

 “Abby,” he slowly enters the medical tent letting her know he’s there. Her hair is in a messy ponytail and Marcus can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen – despite her obvious exhaustion.  “I need you to stay.” There is something weary in his voice, a surrender.

“Marcus, the boy is fine. Jackson can handle medical if needed.” She turns away to gather her medical supplies.

“Abby…”

“Marcus, it’s fine.” She grabs her bag and rapidly walks towards the curtain to the hallway behind him.

As she walks past him he places a hand on her shoulder, “Abby please,” his voice low, “stay.” His eyes are searching for hers.

“I just said...” he cuts her off.

 “I don’t care about medical. Dammit Abby, stop.” She tries to get past him but he strengthens the hold of her shoulder.

“I don’t…” he takes a deep breath as she finally meets his eyes, “care about medical, I care about you. And I don’t know how to keep going having to watch you disappear every damn morning and when you’re here you look at me like you’re a wounded deer and I'm a hunter. Abby, I don’t know how to…” his lasts words are nothing more than a helpless whisper. He slowly lets his hand slide down her arm and tries to take her hand, but she pulls back with an exasperated look on her face.

“You don’t know how to keep going Marcus?” she sneers, her eyes filled with powerlessness. “Do you think I do? Do you think I know how to wake up every morning in her absence?” she takes a step back. “I don’t leave every day, I try to go home, ever since _you_ got her dad floated she’s been gone and there’s been no way for me to reach her and now, at least now, I can go out and look for her. That’s my duty that’s what _I_ have to do,” she’s clenching her bag with one hand, but the other is shaking. “I’m losing everyone, Marcus.” Her voice is flat, hollow.

He threw a stone in her ocean, this is the waves, and there’s something captivating about watching her let go. Outside a silent rain has begun and he can’t stop looking at her face. But the realization of her words hit him – _she blames him for Clarke’s farther death._ For a moment he cannot breathe and something inside of him, a hope, a dream, slowly crumbles as she continues to stare angrily at him without moving.

He makes a helpless gesture, as if he wants to reach out for her but holds back.

“Please don’t Abby…” the words trail off as she takes a step forward.

“I begged you, but you took them away from me,” somehow he wishes she’d yell at him, but she doesn't, “If you think for a moment you can stop me from searching for my daughter this conversation ends here.” There’s a moment of silence. “Dammit Marcus, I'm not that weak I can watch out for myself.” Her voice is filled with frustration and anger.

“I know,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “but I am, and I can’t lose you Abby, no matter how much you hate me for what I've done.” His posture is stoic as always, but he has to resist the urge to beg for her forgiveness, knowing it would get him nowhere with Abby. “I'm haunted by those things every day and every night and I'm searching for redemption. I don’t expect forgiveness,” he lowers his eyes, “I don’t deserve it.”

Then, before he can react, he’s pushed against the wall with Abby’s hands grabbed firmly around his collar. “Marcus Kane,” the name starts out angry but fades to a whisper. She takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. “I don’t hate you, but you can’t do this, you can’t deny me this.” She slowly loosens her hold of his jacket but her hands still rest on his chest, indecisively. Her eyes flicker, waiting for response.

“I won’t,” he locks eyes with her, ”the search party heads out tomorrow at first daylight, I cleared everything with Sinclair, he’ll act as temporary Chancellor while you’re gone.” Her facial expression is a mixture of surprise and relief. “First daylight, by the gates.” He can smell the woods in her hair and even though he doesn't want her to go back, at least this time he’ll be by her side.

He was going to say those words and leave, only her hands are still on him, her face only a few inches away from his. Her warm breath makes him dizzy and confused and the sound of his name on her lips echoes in his head. Her lips part, to start another argument, to comfort him, to kiss him –he doesn't care.

The taste of her lips is intoxicating, causing all the walls he built so carefully to crack, fall apart and leave him vulnerable in a way he isn't used to. Every time she has looked at him, touched him, this is what he wanted to do.

“Marcus,” she pulls back.

“I’m sorry.” The kiss still lingers on his lips, leaves him breathless. When he meets her eyes there’s no anger, just something soft and warm that he has only seen rare glimpses of since that day. 

“I’m not. I do miss you.” Her voice is as breathy as his and she has lowered her eyes to focus on his chest. He wants to say something, but he’s at a loss so he just leans in and leaves a trail of soft kisses down her neck from the vulnerable soft skin below her ear down to her collarbone, travelling down her shoulder gently pulling her shirt away. She presses her hips against his and lets out a low sigh, “I didn't know I missed you that much,” her voice husky. The warmth from her body and the arousal in her voice annihilates the remaining coherence in his thoughts.

“Dammit Abby, what are you doing to me.”

She leans in and murmurs softly into his ear, “loving you.”

“What?” His voice is weak, but he’s sure the fiery look in her eyes is reflected in his own. It feels like her words are crawling under his skin, diving into his veins, rushing through his body like wildfire, making his skin burn where her hands touched him just seconds ago.

The realization of her words is printed all over her face but it doesn't seem to scare her. “It’s not as hard as you think, Marcus,” there’s a genuine softness and urgency to her voice. Her cold hands find their way under his shirt and a gasp escapes his lips.

Before she knows what happens, he grasps her wrist and leads her through the tent to the posterior Chancellor quarters. He shuts the door closed with one hand and pins her against it. “Why?” His breathing is strained and his voice thick with arousal.

“Really, Marcus?” She removes his hands from her hips, only for him to intertwine his finger in hers and press them against the cold metal next to her head.

“I want to know.” He has to restrain himself from pressing his lips against hers as she stands in front of him, eyes wide, breathing heavily.

“I don’t know why. Christ, Marcus,” she arches her back, “I fell in love with you, it just happened.”

Without even moving she draws him in until they breathe the same air and he can feel the dizziness seep back into his body.

“Let go.”

And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up a bit jumping and fast but I hope it still made sense. Feedback is very much appreciated!


End file.
